


Bedside Manner

by anastronomicalsmile



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sickfic, alex is a good caretaker!!! for his boy! for his love!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 05:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19761754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastronomicalsmile/pseuds/anastronomicalsmile
Summary: Alex tends to Henry in his hour of great need.





	Bedside Manner

Alex returns to the room with the tray, loaded with the essentials: applesauce, blue gatorade, scrambled eggs, room temperature water, fresh mint sprigs, and, of course, a rapidly cooling cup of Earl Grey. He sets it on the tv tray butted up to the bed before perching next to Henry. His Royal Highness looking a wreck with flushed, swollen cheeks, bundled up in every blanket in their house, including a weighted blanket on top of all of them. David lies on the inside of his leg, his chin resting on his shin. When he can finally open his eyes, they are drowsy, rimmed pink, heavy with exhaustion and illness. 

“Hi baby,” Alex’s voice is gentle, and Henry’s eyes flutter until they are as close to open as they’re going to be today. He hums in acknowledgement. “Got you some lunch.” 

Henry groans, turning his head away. 

“You have to eat something.”

“Are you on the menu?” That earns him a smack on the arm. 

“You can’t open your mouth more than two inches. Besides, I don’t think I’m very nutrient dense.”

“Well darling, I disagree.” 

“Does the anesthesia make you gayer?”

“No, just you.” Henry doesn’t have it in him to smile, but his eyes are bright and soft. Alex can’t help the way that makes his heart flutter and swell. He picks up the tea cup, and offers it to his boyfriend. 

“Drink your tea.” Henry shifts up on the pillow enough that he can drink without drowning himself. Alex does his best to support him, and returns the cup to its saucer when he is done. The quiet  _ clink _ of the porcelain cuts through the buzz of illness in the air. 

“My love.” Henry starts. Alex places his hand in Henry’s hair, gentle, tender. Very Florence Nightingale of him. “I can’t believe, after all this time…” He looks askance, to the tray by the bed, and closes his eyes, “you still can’t make a proper cup of tea.” That earns him another smack on the hand, retribution. 

“You dick! I rearrange my schedule, sit vigil at your bedside, I fix you a plate! I make a spreadsheet for your medications!”

“And I love you so much, my sweet.”

“I should’ve left Pez to tend to you! Bet he makes a good cup for you. Up to royal standards.” Alex stands to berate him better. 

“But he doesn’t kiss me, or touch me…” Alex is furious, but can’t wipe the smile from his mouth. “And you wouldn’t leave me like this, would you? When I’m ill, and frail?” He coughs pathetically, on purpose. 

“You big baby, you had a root canal.”

“An emergency root canal! and in American hospital! I’ll be destitute, selling poems on the corner for spare change!”

“What, NHS doesn’t have an international plan?”

“Wouldn’t need to if your country would join the rest of the developed world.”

“We are working on it. Eat your eggs.” For his put upon rage, Alex whips a napkin across Henry’s chest and helps arrange the plate so he can eat it. Henry pouts, or he tries to, as well as he can when his mouth is swollen and sore. 

“I want your kind of root canal.” Alex doesn’t have a skull big enough to roll his eyes as much as he’d like. A sweet bell  _ tings _ on Henry’s phone, and Alex dutifully collects a handful of pills - painkillers and antibiotics - and gives them one by one to Henry, each followed by a sip of gatorade.  _ The blue one has healing magic, _ Alex had insisted when he first presented it to Henry after the procedure yesterday. He marks off the  _ Day 2 - 1 PM  _ medications and returns the paper to the proper nightstand. Henry does his best to get the eggs into his mouth, but has a tough time until Alex smooths his hands down and feeds him appropriately sized bites. 

“You take such good care of me.” Henry’s voice is earnest, shining, as his eyes droop back to sleep. Alex sets another timer for the next round of medications. 

“Of course baby, I want you to get better.” A smile starts to broach Henry’s face. “And you get really gay when you’re drugged up, I wasn’t gonna let you waste that on Shaan or some royal nurse.” Henry lifts his hand as if he’s going to give Alex a smack in turn, but it falls limp on his stomach. Something in Alex shifts, he feels something spark and change. It’s cathartic and warm, and simple and true. Gears clicking into place so the whole thing runs right. 

He goes to his nightstand to grab his phone and shoot a text to Bea. He snaps a picture of Henry, head lolled down and lips parted as sleep takes him once again.  _ ‘Hour 27, Agent H is progressing well, if un-appreciative of his boyfriend.’  _

Bea responds within a minute, ‘ _ Thanks for taking care of him!  _ And another  _ He usually only lets David see him when he’s ill. Make sure he doesn’t try to call any diplomats or relatives until he’s sobered up.  _ Alex smiles at the messages before setting his phone back in its charger and turning his attention to the heap of royal misery in bed where his boyfriend usually is. He picks a copy of The New Yorker off his bedside table and takes it to the bay window, to sit and watch the rain drizzling outside while Henry dozes. 

He’s halfway through a long form piece on the radical changes in farm life from post-World War II through 2020 in middle-America when Henry calls for him. 

“ _ My dearest.”  _ He is croaking, being dramatic on purpose. But Henry never lets himself be cared for, or acknowledges his own pain. So Alex turns to him, marking his place in the story with a post-it note before tending to his long-suffering prince. 

“Yes?” Alex’s hand finds Henry’s, and gives a little squeeze. Henry squeezes back, softer. 

“Can you stay?” Henry is quiet when he asks. 

“I’m right here, baby.” 

“I just want you to stay.” Alex knows what he means when he says that. He opens up the bureau with the TV and navigates until he’s found what he’s looking for. It’s a good thing they don’t need VCRs. because they would run through the film watching and re-watching. A couple more clicks, and Moulin Rouge is playing quietly on the TV. 

“Nicole Kidman’s accent is terrible in this.” 

“You can bring that up with Baz then. He’s supposed to be at the fundraiser at the end of the month” 

“Don’t think I won’t.” 

“Oh, I know that you will." 

**Author's Note:**

> god i love these boys so much!!! ugh!! love your comments, your kudos, constructive criticism & prompts! catch me on tumblr at @anastronomicalsmile xoxo gossip gay


End file.
